


Bold

by bookworm03



Series: Adult Relationships [4]
Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Best Friends, F/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-30 01:25:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5145161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookworm03/pseuds/bookworm03
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Ben's birthday and Leslie wishes she was bold like Eleanor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bold

**Author's Note:**

> AU - Leslie and Ben have been best friends since high school and are totally in love with each other, but won't admit it. (Yeah, they're idiots, I know.) Totally cliche fun. :) 
> 
> Part 4 in this series. Same drill as last time, you can read it alone, but I recommend checking out the other parts first because build up is a wonderful thing. 
> 
> Seriously, still can't get over the response to this series. You guys are awesome, I'm so glad people are enjoying it and spending way too much of my time writing it. Thank you x 1,000,000

It’s Ben's birthday and she misses him. 

Things have escalated with his new girlfriend, Eva, in the last couple of weeks. She continues to prove she is both lovely and smart; she hangs out with them, laughs with them, buys rounds, sits right beside Leslie while complimenting her clothes and asking how her latest presentation went…Her presence is ubiquitous - where Ben goes, she goes, and Leslie knows the worst is coming. The part where she loses him more or less completely. The part where there stop being pieces of him that exist only for her. The part where he dances whenever Eva asks him to, stops sneaking out of bed to call her to watch a PBS special and stops editing her grant proposals over lunch. 

The part where he falls in love.

 He’s reserved by nature, but he’s also confusingly bold and romantic, so he's usually the last one to think it but the first one to say it. He’ll deny, deny, deny he’s having these feelings and then when he has them - boom - lightning. It comes spilling out of him, raw with emotion, and it’s beautiful and moving. It reminds her that he can tell Leslie he loves her as much as he likes, but it’s never like that. It's not gritty, raw, or desperate. It's not all-consuming.

With Eva, he’s falling. Fast and hard, and Leslie knows it’s only a matter of time before this relationship milestone is achieved...

But it hasn’t happened yet. And he’s still her best friend and it’s his birthday and she just needs to see him. She can’t sneak into his apartment with breakfast, balloons and streamers, and she can’t be the one to throw him a surprise party, but she can show up unannounced and give him his present. He’s still partly hers for a little while longer.

“Leslie, what - hi!” Eva answers the door with a bright smile wearing the plaid bathrobe his mom gave him for Christmas two years ago that he never uses. He’s sloppy at home, band t-shirts, hoodies and a towel around the waist when he leaves the shower. Office Ben might seem like he’d be a "bathrobe" guy, but he’s not. He’s an "alternative music t-shirt with a hole in the collar, and hoodie with fraying cuffs" guy.

 “Wh-what are you doing here?” she rubs the back of her neck, her luxurious curls stuffed into a clip. “I didn’t know you were coming over…” 

Eva trails off, glancing back awkwardly. The brightness emanating from her recedes just a touch. “Sorry, I just…we’re getting ready to go out. We’re going to Indianapolis for the weekend to see the Colts.” 

 “Oh!” Leslie swallows repeatedly because her throat is suddenly very dry. “No problem, I won’t stay long I just…” she gestures to the bag filled with carefully wrapped packages and thinks of all the hours she spent making his annual scrapbook and writing the book. _Ben & Pawnee: A Brief History_ was typed and bound with pictures and dozens of handwritten notes in the margins of memories she had of him in different places. They were supposed to sit and eat the cake she made and go over it with a fine-toothed comb while he added his own memories and …and crap on a spatula, now the dryness is a lump and her eyes are damp. 

“He’s in the shower right now, I was…” Eva squeezes her eyes shut and Leslie doesn’t want to hear the end of the sentence. She knows the end of that sentence. She knows Eva isn’t answering the door wearing his bathrobe for no reason. 

This is insane, ridiculous. His girlfriend is going to join him in the shower, as many of his girlfriends surely have in the past. This can’t be upsetting. 

“Why don’t you leave it and I’ll make sure he opens it before we go and he can text you?” Eva suggests gently, but Leslie swears her eyes narrow just a touch. Wait, is _she_ upset? How was Leslie supposed to know she was interrupting sexy shower time? It’s his birthday and he’s her best friend and maybe he isn’t in love with her, but he cares about her plenty and he’ll want her to be there when he opens his presents. His girlfriend of a couple months doesn’t get to _brush her off_. 

And no it is _not_ acceptable for Ben to _text her_ after he opens his birthday present. Eva might get sexy shower time, but she still needs to learn how things work around here - 

“Babe, what’s the hold up…” 

And there he is. Towel around his waist as he appears out of a wall of steam and his eyes lock with hers. He's pale and wiry as always, but he hasn’t shaved yet and that, combined with the white towel contrasting his slightly-less white skin, makes him seem darker. Sexier. Sometimes he’s so dorky and affectionate she forgets he can also send a little throb of desire to her centre. 

“H-hey!”

 It’s awkward. It’s so awkward. Also, he calls Eva _babe_ casually around the house now, which means it’s definitely super serious and I love yous really are just around the corner. 

Now Leslie's mortified. She sees Eva’s point. He wants a sexy shower and a road trip to Indy with his girlfriend for his birthday, not childish presents and a cake she’s made him for twelve years.

“Hey,” she shakes her head. “Hey, I’m so sorry. I should’ve called first, I just wanted to drop off your present. I’ll let you guys…” 

Oh god, she’s going to start crying. In front of Eva, in front of Ben. Her breaths are coming shallow and the lump is inching further up, and the back of her throat is starting to burn. She miscalculated, she's out of time; he’s gone already. She’s lost him already. 

“No, no no,” he hurries forward quickly, still holding his towel in a way that would make her snicker if the situation were different. “Come, come in. Just give me…like…two minutes, okay? I don’t want you to go.” 

“Hun,” Eva coos sweetly and Leslie can’t tell if she’s imagining the tinge of iciness. “We should…still leave pretty soon. We don’t want to hit too much traffic and miss dinner…” 

“We won’t, it’s fine,” his tone is abrupt, all-business. It’s the tone he uses at work when he’s unimpressed. “The shower’s still on, why don’t you…go get ready while I…” 

His furrowed brow disappears and his mouth curves into the smallest of smiles. “I just want to talk to Leslie for a bit.” 

He’s wearing a towel and passing on sexy shower time to spend ten minutes in her company.

Oh god, he’s going to be the death of her. 

Eva gives him an awkward little smile, rubbing his bare shoulder and tacitly suggesting he put some pants on first. 

“I’m so sorry,” Leslie whispers with a giggle when the bathroom door closes and Ben ushers her into his room. He pulls boxers on swiftly under his towel, and then his jeans and t-shirt. She watches as carefully as she can without staring, contemplating how he’s awkward when he dances but surprisingly graceful dressing and undressing. 

The throb of desire returns and now there's heat coiling in her belly. She really shouldn't stare at his hands while he buttons his jeans and definitely shouldn't imagine those hands unbuttoning hers.

“It’s fine, traffic will be better if we leave later. What the heck did you get me? I was wondering why I hadn’t heard from you all day. I thought you’d get Barney to fill my office with balloons again - ”

She launches herself at him, kicking her legs up behind her and squeezing him with everything she’s worth because it already feels like it’s been way too long since they hugged without reserve. Eva seeming almost irritated she’s there emboldens her, and Leslie needs to feel his arms around her, even if it’s just for a second. He laughs into her hair and catches her with a little stumble. 

“Happy Birthday!” she squeaks into his neck. Ben squeezes back just as securely, swaying and taking advantage of the fact that her feet aren’t touching the ground. 

“Thanks,” he rubs her back but doesn’t put her down. 

“I’m so sorry I interrupted your…plans.” 

Ben rolls his eyes. “She’ll get over it. You didn’t know.” 

“Still,” he sets her down and drags her against his chest so she can’t keep talking. He murmurs into her hair he misses her and her insides liquefy. 

“Okay,” she pulls back before more tears can form. "I made you red velvet cake, obviously,” it's his favourite. The icing is cream cheese, the sponge is dyed a perfect, blood red and _Happy Birthday Ben_ is written with sprinkles. 

“I have candles too - a Star Wars candle,” she pulls that out of the bag. “But since we’re short on time I won’t sing it to you.” 

“Awww,” he whines. “How am I supposed to wish for you to stop singing when I blow out my candle then?”

She snorts and he pinches her side, and if you’d asked her the name of his girlfriend in that moment she probably wouldn’t have remembered, let alone recalled a promise she made in front of a campfire weeks before. All she knows is their time is borrowed and he should keep touching her. 

“You’re not leaving until you sing to me. Sorry, Knope.” 

“You have a dinner reservation.” 

“Uhh, I’m not going anywhere until you sing to me.” 

“Well, I’m not singing to you.” 

“Then I guess I’m not going anywhere, am I?” 

“Eva is getting ready to leave as we speak,” okay, fine, she can remember her name. 

“Eva doesn’t know how incredibly fucking stubborn you are because if she did she would understand why I’m not budging on this.” 

If only she had no ulterior motive for keeping him there all night with her. If only ruining his probably incredible birthday plans didn’t sound so damn tempting right now. God, when had she become so selfish? She should ask Ann about that. 

“Alright, what else you got in there, Mary Poppins?” he reaches for her bag and she smacks his hand away, pulling out the stack of packages herself. 

He’s sitting on his bed skimming through the scrapbook and laughing at some of the photos from the year when Eva comes in, dressed in black skinny jeans and an off-the-shoulder sweater, looking effortlessly elegant. Leslie’s right beside him. She'd briefly considered perching awkwardly in his desk chair, but Ben had grabbed her wrist and yanked her onto the bed while he opened the first box.

“Hey,” Eva peers in tentatively and blinks at the packages surrounding them. “Oh my god, did you make a scrapbook? And a cake? Holy shit, Leslie. How long did this take you?” 

“Not long, I only sleep four hours a night anyway." 

Ben’s lips twitch as he traces his finger over a picture of a bunch of them at the lake. They’re soaked - the lot of them - he’s wearing sunglasses, his arm is around her and they’re grinning like idiots because he definitely just made some stupid pun and nobody laughed but her. He bumps her with his shoulder and she feels lighter than she has in a while. 

“This is amazing,” Eva stares at the scrapbook. “How often do you make these?” 

“Scrapbooks or scrapbooks for Ben?” 

Eva blinks in disbelief. “Uh, both?”

“Ben, just on his birthday, but I make a lot of scrapbooks. Theme scrapbooks. I have a ton from Christmases. My scrapbooking instincts are excellent.” 

“You make Ben a scrapbook for every one of his birthdays?” 

Why does it sound like a strange thing to do when Eva says it? It’s an amazing gift; there are subtitles to capture the essence of the last year and it contains memories that will last a lifetime. She makes them for Ann too and Ann’s are usually twice as big because she’s way better about taking pictures than Ben is. 

“What’s this one?” Eva picks up the package with _the_ book and Ben straightens. 

“I haven’t got that far yet. Should I…should we go? I’ll open that later?” 

He’s inching away from Leslie subtly and staring at his hands as he closes the scrapbook. The light feeling seeps away and her stomach drops. 

“Oh, yeah yeah yeah,” she blinks rapidly. “Yeah, of course! You guys have an amazing weekend to get to. I’m sorry I kept you.” 

“You didn’t even offer her a drink?” Eva rolls her eyes, as if she wants to apologize for him. “Leslie, stay for a drink. We don’t have to rush. We still have to pack the car, and I’m sure I can change the reservation.”

Leslie wants to punch her for acting like Ben’s her silly, hopeless man-boy and needs her perfect womanly-ness to keep him in line.

 “I should go, actually.” Leslie declares before she can punch her stupid face. The rage might be misplaced, and it came on fast. “Ann and I have plans to do this…singles social night thing. I think Donna’s going too.” 

“Oh, those things are fun!” Eva smiles cheerily. “A little black dress and big heels go a long way, trust me.” 

Her knowing wink unnerves Leslie and Ben’s suddenly on his feet and half-glaring at her. 

“Wait, you’re doing that tonight?” 

“Why not?” Leslie’s suddenly indignant towards whatever he’s implying. 

“Yeah,” Eva lifts an eyebrow. “Why not?” 

 “It’s my… _Les_ …” he stares at her hard, really hard. So hard and so intensely it makes her hands tremble just a little. She knows why. It’s his birthday and when he’s single he spends every minute of it with her. 

But he’s not single, is he? 

“I figured you’d have plans,” she clears her throat and turns back to Eva. “Anyway, have an awesome weekend! Thanks for the tip on the…clothing.” 

“I can’t wait to hear about the guys you meet!” 

“Of course, sure!” she can’t look at Ben. She won’t look at Ben. She knows what he’s thinking and it’s that a) she’s has no desire to start dating again and she’s only going because Ann made her and b) someone hitting on her because of how little and black her dress is is absolutely the last guy she’d ever want to date. 

“Nice to see you,” she hugs Eva quickly because it seems like she should, (she’s a constant in their group now, after all) before turning back to Ben. 

“Happy Birthday, again. Enjoy the cake! It should keep in the fridge if you don’t want to bring it…I mean obviously you won’t want to bring it to…” 

His fingers dig into her sides and he doesn’t slacken his grip until she finally meets his eyes. They’re warm, but there’s an edge and deep down, to the very marrow of her bones, Leslie knows she needs more. She needs a universe where they can spend every single one of his birthday’s together, and right now it kind of feels like he might too. 

She palms his cheeks hastily and forces the brightest smile she can. 

“I’ll call you.” He declares, his eyes still locked on hers. Leslie nods quickly and pats his shoulders. 

“Call, text, whenever you get a chance.” 

When he releases her it’s slow, drawn out, his fingers subtly clutching at her sides for purchase until she’s too far to reach. Eva’s eyes are burning into the back of her neck. 

“Well,” Leslie grabs her purse. “I better go get ready. Drive safe, see you guys later!” 

She spins on her heel and flies out the door before anyone can say another word. 

*****

It’s later and Ann’s drunk and down to her underwear and one of Leslie’s oversized t-shirts. Her printed dress lies on the floor in a heap and she’s basically snoring facedown in Leslie’s pillow, hair everywhere. Leslie’s drunk too. The singles night had ended early, so Donna let them ride in her Benz to a bar where they consumed a lot of incredibly delicious margaritas. 

Leslie sits on the end of the bed and studies two cocktail napkins with numbers on them. They were nice guys, she supposes. They were a little quirky and seemed to have weird hangups or oddly specific jobs, and one failed to get why parks were the best thing ever, but they were friendly and it was always good to feel at least a little desired. 

Her dress isn’t black, it’s bluish-green and goes to her knee and has sleeves, but it’s pretty. The colour’s pretty and she likes how she feels in it. 

In the bathroom of the bar she’d cried about Ben by name and Ann had rubbed her back while Donna insisted “silly, skinny ass boys don’t know what’s good for them, go get yours”. Donna hadn’t seemed surprised at what she was feeling, but she did tell Leslie she was “kickass” and no man should get her down. 

No man does (at least not for long), except Ben, and she’s moving on. She feels empowered and bold and she’s going to text the two gentlemen who had given her their numbers and say it was nice meeting them and they should take her out sometime. She would call, but it’s very, very late and she’s tipsy and they’re probably sleeping, but texting is considerate. They would have her number when they woke up and she’s telling them exactly what she wants. Maybe she would date two guys at the same time like Ann and really feel like a wild woman. 

She’s just opened her phone and begun to key in the first number when it vibrates and his name appears. 

“Hey,” she tries to sound happily surprised. “What are you doing up?” 

“Reading my book,” he sounds shaky, unbalanced, uncertain. Leslie shuts her eyes. 

“Is it too much?” God, _why_? Never in her life has she second guessed her amazing gift giving skills and in all of three seconds Eva made her question everything. It wasn't a competition.

“It’s incredible. It’s perfect. I don’t deserve you.” 

Her heart swells with love and affection instantly. Okay, no more second guessing. 

“Cake’s good too," he states, muffled. 

“You’re eating the cake!” She hisses, stifling a laugh as she exits the the bedroom so as not to wake Ann. “You just had a fancy dinner.” 

“Uh, it’s my birthday and I can eat cake if I want to eat cake thank you very much, Deputy Director Knope,” he swallows and she giggles. “Oh my god, you should’ve seen this chocolate soufflé I had at the restaurant. You had to order it at the beginning of the meal and…You would’ve died. It was so good. I’ll take you there for your birthday.” 

“You will, hmm?” 

“Yup, so don’t make plans with anyone else. I’m calling it now. Your birthday is on a Saturday - I checked - and it’s mine, Knope. Dibs.” 

“Ann gets dibs. Seniority rules.” 

“I’ll talk to Ann,” he swallows again. “They’re re-airing that thing on the First Ladies on the History Channel now. It’s a marathon. Did you know?” 

“What! No! Hang on, I’m going downstairs. Wait, how are you watching? Is Eva not - ”

“She’s asleep. They upgraded us at the hotel when she told them it was my birthday. There’s a living room with another TV which is where I currently am situated with my cake.” 

“Crap, I’m still wearing this stupid dress…” 

“A black one?” There’s something behind his voice that startles her and she freezes. 

“No. That blue one, I wore to... Turquoise, I guess. It’s comfy, but I’m cold.” 

“Oh,” he coughs. “I like that one. I’ll wait; go change before the commercial’s over.” 

“Okay, okay, don’t move,,” she sets her cell phone down, sprinting back upstairs and almost waking Ann in her frantic wardrobe change. She comes back breathless and hears him chuckle before either of them speak again. 

“Better?” 

“Yes.” 

“They haven’t got to Mary Todd Lincoln yet. You missed Abigail, but they should hit Eleanor in the next…eighty-ish minutes.” 

“It’s okay, I’ve seen it.” 

“I know you have,” he sounds like he’s smiling and right then, Indianapolis might as well be on the other side of the world. She tells him as much. 

“You feel far away.” 

“Tonight or lately?” 

“Both,” she admits. “I mean, I know you’re with somebody and that takes up a lot of your time, especially when things are new, and I know you’re really…” she gulps down a sob. “I know you’re falling in…love with her, but it still - ”

“Wait, what?” he cuts her off sternly. “When did I say that?” 

“You didn’t have to. I can tell.” 

“You can _tell_ ,” he repeats slowly, and there's a curious inflection to his words. Exasperation, maybe? 

“Since when?” 

“Uh, since Cindy Eckhert. You’re pretty obvious.” 

“No I’m not,” he groans for no reason. 

“Um, yes, you are. You totally are.” 

“No, I’m really, really not,” he’s rubbing his forehead. She can tell that too. 

“You’re so obvious, Benjamin.”

“Oh, yeah? Tell me then, Lesliemin, what do I do?” 

She goes through the mental checklist she’s compiled over the years without pause. She tells him about how he starts to fidget more and seems more jittery, how he looks to them for confirmation on things, how their name starts to sound different when he says it. She explains how he becomes more affectionate, he won’t stop touching them even if it’s just fingertips brushing against their hip or a hand tucking a piece of hair out of the way. It’s so clear in her mind and she’s so certain about it she doesn’t even feel anxious about confessing all these minute details to him, because it’s so true. Ben’s so obvious - at least to her - when he’s in love. 

He doesn’t speak right away when she’s done. Instead they focus on the narrator’s voice and the life and times of Mary Todd Lincoln. 

“You notice all of that?” 

“It’s how I know. The Leslie Knope: Ben Wyatt Love Barometer is foolproof.” 

“I disagree.” 

“Um, why? Do you deny your feelings for Cindy or Shauna or Joanne or - ”

 “It’s only as good as you are. It’s not objective.” 

“I’m objective!” 

“You’re not on that list.” 

“That’s different,” she explains carefully. “This is a _romantic_ love barometer. Not a Leslie/Ben best friend love barometer. God, pay attention. They’re very different.” 

“Oh,” she hears him shifting on the sofa and curls her legs beneath her. “Well, I want a barometer then. For you. A Ben Wyatt: Leslie Knope Love Barometer.” 

_It’s when I stay up for three nights in a row to make them a book on their life in Pawnee. It’s when I start crying because I’m not there to read it with him -_

“Hey, how was your night anyway?” 

“Long. I got two numbers though.” 

“Wow, are you trying the Ann Perkins style of dating?” 

“You need to tell Chris to ask Ann out because she’s totally obsessed with him, and when she was drunk in the cab home all she kept saying was nobody’s eyes were as blue as his.” 

Ben groans and she cackles. 

“I’ll see what I can do, but for now, I’m going to watch the good people of the History Channel tell me about Mrs. Jackson.” 

They settle into a comfortable silence and Leslie is just starting to feel less sad when Ben cuts in again. 

“Also, I can’t _believe_ you made plans on my birthday. That was low, Knope." 

“Um, you have a girlfriend. I passed the birthday night torch.” 

“I didn’t agree to that.” 

“You weren’t even going to be around anyway!” 

“Well you didn’t know that! I didn’t even know that! I thought you were gonna kidnap me and take me roller skating or something.” 

“Next year I’ll coordinate better with whoever you’re dating.” 

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” there’s a pause before he cuts the silence again. 

“You feel too far away too, you know.” 

Tears slide down her cheeks before she can stop them. She tamps down on the quiver in her voice.

“I’m always here. Whenever you need me.” 

“I love you.”

“Love you too, Happy Birthday,” she swipes at her cheeks and let’s the sound of the voiceover drown out the rest of her thoughts. 

When they get to Eleanor Roosevelt they describe her as a bold and unapologetic. He falls asleep on the phone with her just before Jackie O, Ben’s soft breathing lulling her in a way political commentary never could. She could say nothing, fall asleep too, let Eva find them in the morning with six hours of phone time logged and Ben wearing his dopey, sleepy face with a kink in his neck from trying to keep the phone from dropping. 

Maybe trying to hold onto the sound of her voice. 

Ann would tell her to do that if she was awake, let Eva draw whatever conclusions she wanted and hopefully force Ben to draw some of his own. But Leslie isn’t bold like Ann….or Dolley or Abigail or Edith…not about this. 

And she’s certainly no Eleanor. 

“Ben,” she calls gently. “Ben, wake up, you have to go to bed.” 

He grumbles, like always, and whines into her ear. She smiles. 

“I don’t wanna go to bed, I wanna stay with you.” 

“And I want you to be with me - stay with me! Stay with me too.” _Whoa, where did that come from?_

There’s dead silence and her stomach churns violently. 

“Les,” he sounds hoarse, anxious, and she holds her breath to hear what comes next, but then there’s more noise in the background. 

“Fuck, I gotta go. I’ll call you later.” 

“Have fun.” 

“Yeah,” he’s rubbing the back of his neck, she knows, and he sounds irritated now. “Yeah, thanks.” 

Leslie let’s out a breath she doesn't realize she’s been holding and runs a hand through her hair. 

Okay, maybe she’s got a little Eleanor in her.


End file.
